Who Says
Who says I can't be free?
From all of the things that I used to be
Re-write my history
Who says I can't be free?
Jenny
5/8/11
3:21 p.m.
The audience filed out slowly, and the press didn't even move. However, the Wizengamot quickly exited the courtroom, including the Minister and the prosecution Auror, Bollig. Madam Bones started to make her way down to us as Draco enveloped me in another hug, and I held him tight. Then he passed me off to Lupin, and he picked me up off the ground with his embrace. "This afternoon, we'll catch you up on everything you missed. I know that today was probably confusing and probably enough to scare the-" He stopped talking and drew me close to his side as Madam Bones parted our group to stop in front of us.
"I just wanted to say that you are the most extraordinary person I have ever met, Miss Quinty. Good luck to you." She said quietly but with such warmth in contrast to her normal person, that I felt a smile grow before I even realized it.
"Thank you." I said quietly, and she nodded briskly, then turned and walked away. When I turned back to the group, Hermione tackled me, and we staggered back several steps before I caught my balance. Hermione didn't even say anything, she just cried on me. "Hermione, I'm right here," I said as comfortingly as possible while trying to pull slowly away. "I'm fine, you're fine, the whole world is bloody brilliant, actually-" she stopped my rant by holding me by my shoulders to look at me.
"If I had known what was happening to you, I swear I would have done everything to keep it from happening. I abandoned you early on to hunt for the Horcruxes, and look at all the despair you got into." She sniffed, quickly using the back of her hand to wipe tears off her cheeks.
"Hermione, what's done is done. I appreciate it, but I'd rather have this all happen to me than any other unprepared Muggle."
"But it's not fair!" Hermione stamped her foot like a little girl, and I laughed for the first time in a long time and I found that I couldn't stop, especially when her face flushed a deep red, then she started laughing too. For just a moment, I wasn't thinking about the trial, or how I was trembling, or what all I had missed. For a second, I felt like I was back with Hermione at my house, laughing about something dumb she had just said.
Williamson and Dawlish escorted me (and the family) back to St. Mungo's, and I was shocked by the amount of reporters everywhere. I thought that was only something that happened in crappy Muggle flicks. But, at any rate, we made it back to my hospital room, and fell into easy and relaxed conversation, it was almost a party. I was constantly being called around the room, so my hospital bed was the last place I went to. But even then, I didn't have to get in it-in fact, I got to sit in a deep squishy chair and drink potions as the conversations continued. Once and a while, Lupin would leave, but he would always come back with a different newspaper or magazine.
They were full of pictures from the trial. I tried to ignore those as much as possible and only read the text. I couldn't help but fill with hope as I read tabloid after tabloid. They all reported exactly on what we had said. But then they would back it up, agreeing with us! The free feeling was almost better than the memory I used for my Patronus, because I new that this feeling would last a bit longer.
5/9/11
The next day, I was holding onto that feeling, knowing that it wouldn't last. Today was Bollig's day to make a case. I was only there to be presented as a murderous and bloodthirsty person, a dangerous werewolf. This time, Dawlish escorted me down to the courtroom, and I entered the same way as last time, but stronger. I still trembled, but I did not feel weak on my feet. I fixed a cold gaze on Bollig as he waddled closer to me, drumming his fingertips together. He watched me for a moment. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Yesterday, you met the carefully edited and 'polite' Jennifer Quinty. Today, you will see all sides of Miss Quinty." He stopped in front of me, looking smug, then turned and rapped his wand on the Pensive. The whole courtroom gasped as I appeared on the screen.
I hardly recognized myself. My face was cool and unflinching, but my eyes were full of a fierce anger. I still didn't look healthy, very thin and pale yet from the Manor incident. Bellatrix sneered at me, and my eyes flashed with fury. I flinched and I had to look away when without looking, I raised my arm in the memory and shot the Minister. It wasn't loud, but the tiny pop seemed magnified to my ears.
"As you can see," Bollig started slowly, curtly, "Miss Quinty is not at all what she seems. Not in the least." He rapped the Pensive again, and the memory continued.
"Goodbye, Bellatrix, Rodolphus. This isn't for me, this is for my family." Without any hesitation, I shot Rodolphus.
"Is this what Brian would want?" Bellatrix smirked, her eyes suddenly boring into my face. My face turned dark, and I carefully raised the gun to place it perfectly between her brows too.
"Brian is dead, you helped kill him," I snarled, but she shook her head, an evil grin starting to grow on her face. My face turned darker still.
"You sparked an interest in the Dark Lord, Muggle. Your precious Brian may turn out to be just as useful as you were." She started to laugh. In a sudden rush, my face filled with unbridled hate. I pulled the trigger. With another tiny pop, Bellatrix fell too.
"The picture painted of Miss Quinty yesterday couldn't be farther from the truth." Bollig said slyly, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. The mention of Brian brought such pain to my senses that I had to close my eyes and picture him again. The sandy slightly curling hair, the freckles and kind hazel eyes, the gap between his front teeth that he could shoot water through—"I am here today to show you all just how heartless Miss Quinty can really be. Yes, it's true, she has been through a lot. She's been tortured and abused. But is this what led to her downward spiral? A girl lost in a world that has only hurt her, a world she doesn't understand. She's full of confusion, grief and hate. Is that enough to start to tear down her common sense, her consciousness? I'd like to call Psychiatrist Robert Flunders to the stand." His voice suddenly turned harsh and snappy, and after a moment, a tiny little man, thin in the extreme came in and sat down. His face was pursed constantly, and he looked around down his nose and spectacles, steeping his fingers. I disliked him instantly. "Dr. Flunders, you have studied psychiatry for how long?" Bollig barked.
"12 years." Flunders' voice was high and reedy, and it always sounded somewhat annoyed.
"Look at the defendant. What would you say her mental state is, based on appearance alone?" Bollig smirked in my direction, but I met Flunders' gaze evenly, using my perfect Kingsley poker face.
"Very young, yet very weathered. Calm and collected; precisely organized. A very strange mix." Flunders studied me intensely, and I worked not to shift under his gaze. "Hmmm…this young woman knows how to manage her emotions." He elaborated, stroking his clean shaven face as if he had an elaborate goatee.
"What do you mean, 'managed'?" Bollig leapt on his words.
"As in carefully controlled and stored." Flunders said, sounding even more annoyed.
"So she could possibly be harboring emotion deep inside? Like anger?" Bollig emphasized the word anger, and I had to fight down the same emotion that came roaring up towards him. His greasy face suddenly sent fire into my nerves.
"Hmmm…possibly…possibly. A more thorough examination would be needed."
"Exactly." Bollig strutted in-between us for a moment. "Quinty, Dr. Flunders is going to ask you some questions. Questions that can be answered truthfully through memories. Do not lie, do not attempt to bend the truth, or we will know. Dr. Flunders, you may begin." Bollig leaned against the bar as Flunders shuffled his papers and then began.
"Miss Quinty, how old are you?"
"I'm sixteen."
"And how long have you been away from the life you have always known? Your Muggle life?" He asked almost impatiently.
"Almost a year, sir."
"Almost a year! That's a long time…but you have made friends and been adopted into another family here in the Wizarding World, is that correct?"
"Yes." I kept talking dryly, even though my mind was racing. What was he trying to get at?
"But there has been trying and grief-filled times within this family, is that correct?" I raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Once you arrived at the Order, things started going wrong, people started getting hurt…correct?"
"Yes," I said much quieter, realizing finally what he was trying to do.
"I'm sure it felt as if you didn't fit in anywhere…tut, tut…" Dr. Flunders tried to sound sympathetic, but he failed miserably. "And you've been the cause of unnecessary deaths within the Order's ranks, isn't that right?" When I didn't answer right away, he pressed on. "Two Aurors, Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle…captured, tortured and murdered trying to protect your identity. A Brian Schwenn, your last tie to the Muggle world…severed so easily in the heat of battle, coming after you…they didn't need to die, did they? How about your old Muggle family? Had you not given away their location during imprisonment, they wouldn't have been slain, now would they?"
"Hestia and Dedalus volunteered to go on the hunt. Brian," I closed my eyes a second, "Brian had nowhere else to go. And it's not as if I gave away my family's location willingly, Dr. Flunders." I let my tone drop to chilling tones, releasing some pent up emotion. How dare he try to suggest that I let the Death Eaters take answers from me so willingly. We stared each other down for a moment.
"After these deaths, how did you feel?" Dr. Flunders moved on to a more dangerous topic, not giving up that easily. I frowned.
"I was obviously very upset. If I didn't exist, none of these deaths would have happened in the manner that they did. Naturally, I felt like I should take some of the blame." I resumed my dry tone.
"You seem very detached now…but during the actual moment, you weren't so calm and rational-headed…no, you got very angry, didn't you Miss Quinty? You swore revenge, and not just any kind of revenge. No, you needed something much more gratifying. You needed the feeling of taking back control, of establishing your sick form of justice. You believed that all Death Eaters should pay for what happened. So, you deliberately killed as many Death Eaters as you could find, isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Does that haunt you at night, Miss Quinty? Slaying people without hesitation? Does that not weigh on your consciousness? Have you no shame?" He leaned forward, watching me with suddenly beady eyes.
"I'm sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, and I'm sorry that deaths of my loved ones were partly my fault…but I can't say that I'm sorry for killing Dark Wizards who were murdering scum who sought to destroy the peace of the Wizarding World." Dr. Flunders seemed to rock backwards for a moment, then he stroked his face again.
"I believe that I am finished, Auror Bollig." He simpered.
"And what is your diagnosis?" Bollig simpered back.
"That Miss Quinty is irrational and somewhat cruel. Definitely heartless and unwilling to accept the reality of the Wizarding World." His words were like a slap, but I continued to meet his gaze lifelessly, as if this didn't matter at all.
"Thank you, Dr. Flunders. Ladies and Gentlemen, Dr. Flunders just gave his very educated guess as to what goes on inside of Quinty's head. Would you like to see what it is really like?" He fixed me with a cold, cold glare, and my stomach suddenly flipped over as the very faint and sluggish memory from when I was slowly waking up from the Draught of the Living Death came back to me. That strange feeling as if someone had been digging around in my head, the headache. But that was impossible, I had been drugged, there was no way that he could have gotten into my head—"A demonstration. A memory from the defendant's head, showing a clearly murderous intent." Bollig said, turning on the spot to rap the Pensive with his wand.